King Dorian Audenaert had not been happy with the news that the betrothal agreement had been broken. But he’d also been semi-embarrassed when his daughter took prompt advantage of that and eloped. Bellomi wished that he’d known that his father would change plans, and that he would include the Council of Kings, otherwise he might well have just taken the betrothal agreement and burned it later. As it stood, Audenaert had been publicly slighted twice, and no king took that well.
Of course, Belen and Kindin had always had close ties to each other, since they did a great deal of trading. Bronislav Vlatko, King of Kindin, might not take his friend’s public embarrassments well either. So even though Aren had gone and talked to both kings in person (via Sevana’s clock network), they had no guarantee that the kings would actually support them on the day of the confrontation. And losing half that support would not aid their cause well and might give the Council a foothold that Aren couldn’t afford to give them.
They didn’t have an alternative plan to fall back on. The Council had done their best to rob them of all influence and power, and they’d done a fairly good job of it, leaving Aren’s back to the wall. In fact, Bellomi felt like they’d been squeezed between a wall and a spear point. Tomorrow would likely be the biggest gamble of their lives.
No wonder no one could sleep.
The ticking of the clock sounded loud in this silence. Even the crackle and snap of the fire became almost deafeningly loud. Bellomi hadn’t minded it when he sat here alone, with a sleeping woman in his lap, but for some strange reason he couldn’t sit still with his father here.
Even though they’d gone over all of this at least a dozen times, Bellomi couldn’t help but ask, “Axelrad has confirmed that the guards will cooperate?”
“Yes, that part’s fine.”
That had been one of the trickier parts of planning this, oddly enough. They could sneak the kings into the room adjoining the council room easily enough through one of the clocks, but getting the citizens onto the palace grounds without raising the alarm? That took cooperation from the whole palace guard. Axelrad had infiltrated the place quietly and orchestrated the whole thing behind scenes so that only men he trusted would be on duty that night.
“Morgan also contacted every city that we visited and spread a reminder that we needed people to show as witnesses tomorrow…well, later tonight, I should say,” Aren added as if Bellomi didn’t already know this. “We’d truly be lost without that man’s information network.”
A vast understatement, that. Sometimes Bellomi didn’t know what had helped them more, Sevana’s magical expertise, or Morgan’s business connections.
Neither one of them discussed what might happen if this plan failed. Simply fading into the woodwork and disappearing from the political scene would not be an option. The Council would be too afraid of them trying again. Bellomi and Aren both would be hounded by assassins until the day they died. They either succeeded or died trying.
“Bellomi, for what it’s worth…” Aren inclined his head toward the sleeping blonde on his son’s lap. “I approve of your choice. At first, I thought you simply besotted, but after working with that young woman I now see what you do. She’ll be a very capable queen, I think.”
Huskily, Bellomi whispered, “Thank you, Father.”
Let’s hope she gets the chance to prove herself as queen, neither of them said aloud.
~ ~ ~
The Council’s meeting would start at 9 o’clock that evening, so the timing of fetching the kings became a somewhat delicate thing. Too soon, and the people inside the palace would notice and cause no end of trouble. Too late, and they wouldn’t be able to hear the full meeting. Late in the afternoon, Aren gave both Artifactors the signal to go, and they both entered clocks heading in opposite directions.
Sarsen had been dispatched for the Belen King. Aren and Bellomi both, dressed in their finest, nervously hovered near the clocks, holding their breath in anticipation. Ten minutes slowly ticked by, seemingly stretching out for an eternity, before the clock face moved outward and the Belen King stepped through.
Bellomi let out a breath he hadn’t known he held and gave the man a bow. “Your Majesty. We are honored you could come.”
Audenaert gave a deep inclination of the head to the prince, expression slightly stiff, and then turned to Aren with an outstretched hand. “Dragonmanovich.”
Aren reached out and clasped the other man’s forearm in a warrior’s clasp. “Audenaert. Good of you to come.”
“I’ve spoken with my daughter,” he said without preamble. “And she said your boy did her a favor, getting rid of the agreement. Said she never cared for him, nor he for her. So I won’t hold this against you. You’re good neighbors, and good rulers, when you’re not cursed.” His eyes crinkled up in a sarcastic smile. “Better than your Council, yes? So you have my support.”
Aren relaxed into a heartfelt smile and clasped the man briefly on the shoulder. “Good to hear. Thank you. In a few moments, we’ll step through a different clock that will take us through to Lockbright.”
“Yes, about these clocks….”
Bellomi signaled his father over Audenaert’s shoulder that he’d be back in a moment before stepping out of the room. Since they hadn’t really known how the Belen king would take the matter, they’d judged it safer to introduce Hana later, if at all. But it seemed safe enough to do so. He went down to the second research room, gave a quick knock on the door, and stuck his head inside.
“Audenaert’s here, and with no hard feelings.”
Hana paced back and forth in front of the table, but at his entrance, she stopped in mid-stride and looked up. “He is? Sweet mercy, that’s a relief.”
He lost track of what she said for a moment, visually distracted by her appearance. Hana was always beautiful, no matter what she wore or if she had ink splotches on her cheeks, so he’d more or less ignored what she wore on a daily basis. But today proved the exception. He’d helped her choose that formal deep blue velvet gown, but on her, it proved even more stunning than he’d envisioned. With her hair properly done up in a loose bun, simple silver earrings on, and a soft touch of makeup, she looked…regal. As if she had suddenly morphed into a princess overnight.
“Bellomi?” she asked, waving a hand in front of his eyes.
“Uh? Oh. Sorry.” He caught the waving hand and put a kiss on the palm. “Your beauty distracted me for a moment.”
“You sweet flatterer,” she retorted with a strained smile. “I’m just trying not to embarrass you. And I still don’t see why you need to introduce me to everyone now.”
“It’ll make it easier for everyone to accept you later,” he promised her. “You’re Windamere’s future queen, and if it’s obvious that you are one of the people that helped put us back on the throne, no one will think it odd that I chose you.”
“Right.” She gave him a nervous smile. Hana had, after many late night discussions, finally accepted that when he asked her to be his wife, he meant it. But she still had moments like this, where she just couldn’t quite grasp that this new world would be her reality the rest of her days.
He put an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close for a moment, silently reassuring her. “You’ll be fine. Just treat them as you do my father, and they’ll be delighted to stay around you.”
“So you say.” With a deep breath, she took a step back and lifted her chin in a determined manner. “Alright, Prince Bellomi Dragonmanovich, let’s go. We have a country to win back.”
Sevana and Sarsen divided up the kings evenly, with her fetching the Kindin and Haixi kings. She went to Haixi first, and Mateus Navarro came easily, almost eagerly as he experienced firsthand the marvels of clock travel. Sevana brought him through without saying more than a hello, and deposited him into Aren’s waiting hands.
If only the Kindin King could be as easily dealt with.
He stood just in front of the clock, waiting with less than stellar patience for her arrival, both feet
spread shoulder width apart as if he were in a parade stance. He reminded her, strangely, of a bear just awoken from a long winter’s sleep: irritable and grumpy.
For once, she tried not to poke and rile things up, as Aren and Bellomi absolutely needed him to come. So she pasted on a business smile and offered a quick bow. “Your Majesty, if you would simply follow me, we can step directly into Windamere.”
The Kindin king looked at the clock with plain misgiving. “Thees portal does not seet vell vith me. Your king explained that you only uze during emergencies, yes? But having such eazy access to my castle…thees, I do not like.”
Only used during emergencies? What a whopper of a lie. Sevana used them at her convenience and didn’t think twice about stepping through someone’s office or home to get to her destination. But if Aren had used this excuse to smooth ruffled feathers, she wouldn’t rock the boat. With a short bow, she waved him through.
Grimacing, he took a breath and stepped through, still muttering under his breath.
They only paused in the clock room long enough for her to turn off the clock that connected with the Kindin castle and then for her to show him to the right clock that led directly into Lockbright Palace. For this event, she had moved one of her grandfather clocks directly into the adjoining room, to avoid having to trip over nightly prowlers and raise an alarm. When they stepped through, she found that they were, in fact, the last to arrive. Sarsen had brought through the Sa Kaon king while she fetched Vlatko.
She stepped aside as the king entered the room, panning with her eyes to see where they stood. Sarsen had already spelled the wall to be clear, which looked odd as he’d also stuck two tuning forks into the wall so they could also hear, which made the forks appear to be floating mid-air. But the room on the other side of the invisible wall still only had half the council, and those men were wandering about and speaking to each other, so nothing had started yet. On this side of the wall, the kings were doing something very similar. Aren greeted Vlatko as he came in, clasping forearms with the man.
Firuz Adnan, the Sa Kaon king, looking impressively regal in full ceremonial robes, stood next to Sarsen and was peppering the other Artifactor with questions. Sevana didn’t quite understand the necessity of the formal clothing. Granted, even formal, it didn’t look uncomfortable to wear. The wrapped headband hid his balding head, with white shirt and trousers half-hidden under a purple mantel that wrapped around his shoulders and back. If not for the gilded embroidery and edging, it would look quite casual. He appeared in oddly high spirits, too, dark eyes shining with enthusiasm, and his wiry frame nearly bouncing. Sa Kao, for whatever reason, didn’t produce many magicians, so he might very well be this excited simply because he got to see so much magic in use today.
Sevana smirked in amusement as she realized that Mateus Navarro, King of Haixi, could be placed on the complete opposite side of the spectrum from Adnan. He kept stifling yawns behind his hand, and the bedhead look, sleepy eyes, and the slouch made it look as if he had rolled right out of bed. If not for the fact that his starched formal black uniform looked pristine, she would have actually believed he had just rolled out of bed for this meeting. He didn’t even pretend to listen as Sarsen explained and demonstrated some magic for Adnan.
The only kings taking this matter seriously were Doran Audenaert, King of Belen; Aren, of course; and Bronislav Vlatko. But those three kings shared tight borders with each other, and Audenaert had already tried combining his country with Windamere’s once. (And was foiled by Bel burning the betrothal contract. She had to wonder if Bel had fessed up to that yet.) More than anyone else, these three would be directly affected by what happened here tonight.
Audenaert knew it, too. A bear of a man, he seemed to loom over everyone else in the room, even though he actually stood a half-hand shorter than Aren. He had also dressed formally for tonight, with a thick fur mantel draped around his shoulders, chain-link armor over a midnight blue tunic, knee-high boots polished to a shine. His thick beard disguised his mouth as he spoke, but his words had enough volume to reach even her ears, and she stood on the opposite end of the room.
Bel and Hana, hand in hand, came up to stand at her side. She glanced at them, noting expressions. Hana looked almost sick with nerves, as she should be. The outcome of this night would determine her future, for better or worse. She had apparently taken great pains with her appearance, in a formal blue dress that bordered-lined extravagance, hair for once done up properly in a soft bun. Trying to give a good impression on the other kings? Pity it was foiled by her gnawing on her bottom lip.
Bel, on the other hand, looked unnaturally calm. For once, he dressed like a proper prince, from shiny boots to the velvet dark green tunic he wore. He had somehow managed to even tame that hair of his, so that he gave a very clean-cut impression. Strange he hadn’t been attacked by nerves, though. He typically did in these types of settings. She took a closer look at his expression and finally realized that his eyes scanned the room with the eyes of a predator, taking in and weighing everything.
Ah. Of course. In this situation, he wouldn’t be called upon to publicly speak, so no need to be nervous. Instead, he probably felt more like a hunter that had finally cornered his prey.
“Sevana,” he said in a quiet manner. “Thank you for bringing them all here.”
She shrugged off the thanks.
“I’m surprised you wore that to go get the kings, though,” Hana observed, frowning as she took Sevana in from head to toe.
Not fazed by royalty, she had worn her typical boots, trousers, and white shirt without a second’s thought. “I suppose in comparison to this crowd, I do seem a mite underdressed.” Not that she intended to apologize for that.
“Everyone, I think the council has assembled!” Sarsen called from near the wall.
Sevana started heading over with Bel and Hana when she realized the conspicuous absence of someone. “Where’s Pierpoint?”
“Father asked him to help people on the outlying regions get here,” Bel informed her in a low tone. “I imagine he’s outside and using some sort of spell so anyone outside the castle can hear what’s going on in the room.”
Ah. She hadn’t thought about them, but thankfully Aren had. Putting Pierpoint out there had been a good decision.
This room stretched quite some distance either way, as it had been designed to hold soirees and the like, giving everyone more than enough room to line up along the wall and get a perfectly clear view of the council. The Council room was identical in size and shape to this one, but with one massively long table that took up most of the available space, cushioned chairs arranged around the oval wood.
It took a few minutes for everyone to be settled, as people adjusted their chairs just so, and brought out papers and quills, some bending down to have a quick word with their neighbor before straightening again. Sevana had ample time to count heads. She couldn’t put names to faces on the councilmen, but she didn’t need to. A quick headcount said that they full council sat in the room.
Eventually the man in the head chair stood and cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, I believe we can begin. Let us start with the first issue: that of the Dragonmanovichs appearing in the Windamere public. Delhaye, what have you learned?”
A thin man with a very small chin stood, his eyes focused on the head chair as he responded, “I was able to put a man inside several of their meetings.”
Bel, next to her, hissed out a curse. “I was afraid they had managed that,” he muttered.
Hana hushed him as the councilman continued, “He couldn’t vouch for the young man, as we of course have very little idea of what the prince would look like if full-grown, but he said there’s no mistake that Aren was truly there. I do not believe these two are imposters.”
The chairman nodded, eyes perturbed. “Thank you, Delhaye. Very well, now that we have that matter cleared up, let’s discuss the next issue. How should we approach this? I’ve heard reports about what is said at these secret me
etings, and how both men claim they were cursed for the past ten years. We know, of course, that Prince Bellomi truly was cursed. But for King Aren to claim the same is preposterous—”
“Why is it preposterous?” a heavyset man with a thick mustache and reclining hairline stood so fast that his chair rocked on its hind legs. “I said before, ten years ago, that King Aren was acting strangely! Especially after the prince was cursed, he should have been examined—”
“He was, by the Court Magician,” another man responded impatiently.
“—and not by that buffoon!” the mustached man retorted firmly. “That idiot can’t be trusted to tie his own shoes correctly. Whatever Pierpoint’s failure with the prince, he was ten levels above what currently serves as a Court Magician. If not him, then we should have contacted the Artifactor Prodigy that lives right within our borders!”
“Clasessens,” Bel whispered to answer Hana’s inquiry. “I’m not surprised he’s acting in our defense, as he’s always been loyal to us.”
“But we didn’t know he was cursed,” another man on this side of the table said, his back to the kings, obscuring his face. His smooth tone sounded almost idle, bored by the discussion. “How are we supposed to be blamed for any of this if we didn’t know his circumstances?”
“The situation was dodgy enough that we should have examined every possibility,” another man said in a loud, carrying voice.
“My Lord Goethals,” the chairman said in a tone of heavy exasperation. “We’ve been through this several times—”
“And I still disagree with you, Toussaint. But whatever your opinion about the king, the very least we should have done was taken the Child Prince directly to an Artifactor. Only the most greedy, arrogant of magicians came to see him, and they were all incompetent in my opinion. We should have sent him to an expert. Lernaire is quite right in this. We have a world famous Artifactor within our own borders. Why didn’t we ever use her? At the very least, we should have tried.”
The Child Prince (The Artifactor) Page 45
